Washed Up In Bleach
by blue-eyed-cow
Summary: The Boogieman will stop at nothing to get what he wants, even if it means turning Murdoc's own creation against him. Now Murdoc and 2D are Cyborg Noodle's prisoner, but where is she taking them, and what does the demon want? First in the 'Betrayal' series
1. Prologue

Full Summary: Murdoc knew he couldn't rely on the Cyborg forever. He knew one day something would go wrong, and he'd have to leave her behind. He just didn't think it would be because of the Boogieman. He didn't know he would turn her against him. Now 2D and Murdoc are their own creation's prisoner. Where is she taking them? How far will the Boogieman go to get what he wants? And will they ever find the real Noodle in the process? No pairings yet. Takes place a few weeks before the 'Rhinestone Eyes' storyboard. Stylo didn't happen. Rated for violence and language. First in the 'Betrayal' series.

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**A/N: Ok, I'm literally **_**so**_** excited for this story. I've written a few Gorillaz One-Shots before this, but never something this long and this intense. Unfortunately this'll be sort of a lengthy author's note… but that's only because this is the first chapter and I just want to give everyone a vague idea of what's going to be happening. After this, no more long notes. Deal? Ok, let's get started. **

**If you read the full summary above, which I hope you did, I think you get the point. This takes place a few weeks before the 'Rhinestone Eyes' storyboard, but 'Stylo' and 'Melancholy Hill' didn't happen. The album has been released, Murdoc and 2D are on Plastic Beach, and Noodle and Russel are still, well, gone. Also as mentioned in the summary, this is going to be the first story in a whole series of 'em. Not sure how long this one's going to be… but I have the entire thing planned out already, which just totally adds to my excitement.**

**I'd like to thank a few people for the making of this story. The first is my brilliant little sister, ****Spazzy Bunny****, who's helped me so much with this. I could never have come up with this without her. The second person is my dear friend ****Kukapetal****, who has written an amazing Gorillaz story: Discarded. Her writing has inspired me so much, and she's so helpful. Other inspirations will be listed when they come up :)**

**This is a prologue that takes place a week before the actual story begins. I hope you all enjoy!**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Gorillaz.**

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~Prologue~

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_The blood was shed_

_It will never be the same_

_Feel the intruding lead_

_That hangs my head in pain_

_The drainage not on my hands_

_But flows down my back_

_It was only in the sands_

_Where you planned your attack_

_Executed without flaws_

_With no issue at hand_

_You dug deep with your claws_

_Into a faceless land_

_Your face full of lies_

_When you greet me at that place_

_I see through your disguise_

_And reject your embrace_

_The wound you try to heal_

_Is now a gaping maw_

_Your words can never conceal_

_The true colors I saw_

_~Bryan P. Mix_

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The Boogieman had the whole thing planned out several weeks before it was initiated. The plan was sure to work; there was no doubt in the demon's twisted, foggy mind that it would be a success. It was a simple yet brilliant plan; one that would get him not only the revenge he deserved, but also his dignity back. How humiliating it had been, to not be able to take the soul of some narrow-minded, pathetic mortal. How Murdoc Niccals had managed to escape his clutches for almost a year now was well beyond him. But now, his plan was sure to work. There were no flaws. There would be no setbacks. The only downside would be how much energy would be required to put the first phase of the plan into action. It would leave him in a weakened state for several days to come; he didn't doubt that. But it would be worth it.

The best part was that he didn't even need to take one step out of the very room he was currently residing in. Not that he had much of a choice, anyways. The Boogieman's powers were strongest in here. In the Mortal World, they were weaker; drowned out by the many other sources of strange, thick energy that hung in the air of the outside world. Sometimes he would go up above to feast on the souls of locals, or of small animals that would scurry by. But he was growing weary of the sun and the moon and the stars. Down here, he was safe. Nothing could touch him. However, it sometimes pained him to be stuck in this room: an awkward little notch between the Mortal World and Hell. He would never admit it, but he longed to be accepted back into the Underground. He had made a fool of himself for not capturing the soul that both he and his master were owed, and had been exiled from the land of the demons. He was an outcast. A loser.

But not anymore. Once he put his plan into action, he would win. He would win it all. Respect, fear, power. It would all be his.

No one could stop him now.

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At the same exact time that the Boogieman was preparing for the first phase of the plan, Android Noodle was doing the exact opposite. She was standing in her supply closet, powered down, charging, and certainly not doing anything her beloved master was not aware of. Dozens of wires, all different colors, stuck out of her back and her head and her legs. Even though she was powered down, she wasn't technically _off._ She was never fully off unless she was undergoing repairs to her internal hard drive, which would permanently damage her if she were on while that was being tampered with.

Being an artificial life form, sometimes the robot wasn't aware of what was real and what wasn't. She sometimes didn't know if the sky was really blue, or if her vision was just screwed up and turning everything a thin shade of the color. She sometimes didn't know if it was the coffee machine beeping in the morning, or if that was just coming from inside her head. She sometimes didn't know if her master was suddenly fluent in French, or if her translator had just gone haywire and was now interpreting everything in some foreign language. If the robot was programmed to be frustrated by things such as that, she definitely would have been. However, she was programmed to have very few significant emotions. Therefore, she didn't care what was real and what was just caused by herself. Right now, all she was really focusing on was charging.

_charging status: 84%_

_ charging status: 85%_

_ WARNING: FOREIGN THREAT DETECTED;; HACKING INTO INTERNAL DRIVE; VIRUS DETECTED VIRUS DETECTED;; COMENSE SHUTTING DOWN; ALL SYTEMS DOWNNNnnnnnnnn:;;;#4lka90.';;;;;;;;;_

The virtual words of panic flashed across the robot's field of vision as her green eyes suddenly shot open. She could already feel her internal systems slowing, preparing to be shut down to ward off the virus that was currently attempting to hack into her systems.

Despite the fact that all of her systems should have been shutting down, she managed to scan the ground beneath her before her vision began to fail. All around was thick, black smoke. It was hovering over the ground like it had just come from a fog machine. She didn't have time to scan what it was. She was sure her substance scanner had already crashed, anyways. She'd have to use her senses to decipher what it was. She only had seconds.

_smoke;; black, low, thick, no smell, strange texture, grainy…_

_ ALL SYSTYEMS DOWN IN 10…_

_ electricity; sparks. everywhere. around smoke;; around me…_

_ 9…_

_ electricity engulfing me; reprogramming internal drive;; switching user settings…_

_ 8…_

_ new user detected;;_

_ 7…_

_ Quitting all commands for: Murdoc Niccals bass player… gorillaz… god._

_ 6…_

_ New Master: Boogieman. Demon._

_ 5…_

_ Now retrieving all commands from new user: Boogieman_

_ 4…_

_ ERROR. ERROR. INNITIATE SELF-DESTRUCT MODE. MURDOC IS GOD ERROR 909 ERROR:: .D0-9…_

_ 3…_

_ Self Destruct mode: off. Turned off by: Boogieman. New User._

_ 2…_

_ Beeeeeeeeeeeeeeep_

_ 1…_

Being an artificial life form, sometimes the robot wasn't aware of what was real and what wasn't. However, she knew this was real. She knew this smoke was somehow messing with her internal drives, her hard wiring, her _everything. _She was being reprogrammed. She also knew that Murdoc Niccals was not her master anymore.

And it felt oddly… nice.

And as she shut down, a foreign emotion sprang up out of her new hardware. It was something she had never felt before. It was excitement.

_all systems;; down-own-own-nn…._

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_KA-CHAK!_

Murdoc Faust Niccals, who had been sitting in the chair in his study, smoking a fag, nearly fell out of his seat as the thunder, followed by an unnaturally bright bolt of lightning, exploded through the air outside. Swearing under his breath, the Satanist slowly hoisted himself from the desk chair, trudged over to the large, circular window, and peeked out of it. Sure enough, black, menacing clouds were swirling over the floating landfill. The seas were gray and rough, and the flashes of almost unnatural-looking lightning appeared far too frequent for comfort.

Being who he was, however, Murdoc wasn't worried. Maybe it was because he had one too many bottles of rum this afternoon, or maybe it was because storms here at Plastic Beach weren't too uncommon.

But there was something off about this storm. Those clouds had a strange look to them. They were far too thin, yet far too dark. There was no rain, although there was a lot of wind. And if you looked close enough, small sparks of electricity, too small and frequent to be actual lightning, could be seen zigzagging in and out of the dark swirls overhead. No, this was no ordinary storm.

But, as mentioned before, Murdoc didn't notice any of those factors. He exhaled a puff of smoke as he continued to stare out of the window at the murky scene down below.

Then he smirked to himself, thinking, _'Hopefully the storm won't capsize the island. Then 2D would be on the top and I would be on the bottom! Ha!' _The thought amused the green-skinned man as he stuck the cigarette back into his mouth. _'Maybe the whale will get all rowdy and bash that Faceache around a bit. Ah, how I'd love to hear him scream right about now…'_

What he heard next, however, was not a scream from the man living in the basement. Instead, Murdoc nearly jumped right out of his boots for the second time that afternoon when a loud, deafening BEEP sounded from a few floors below him. Swearing loudly, Murdoc stomped on the ground a couple of times, even though he knew the source of the beep wouldn't be able to hear him from three floors up.

"Shut the bloody hell up, damn cyborg, and get back to charging!" He screeched at the floor, stomping one more time for good measure. When no more sounds came from the robot that should have been charging in the broom closet, Murdoc went back to staring out the window, now slightly irked. That robot caused a lot more trouble than it was worth.

Since Murdoc had nothing better to do, he decided to watch the storm for a little while longer, enjoying the few minutes he had that didn't require him to think about anything. He deserved a break. He alone had put together most of the damn album, for Satan's sake! Sure, there were guest singers and collaborators and directors and yaddah yaddah yaddah… but he was the real star. He _was _Murdoc Niccals, after all.

As he stared out at the sky, he had one last thought. His brow furrowed as he made a small discovery that sort of… disturbed him. He finally began to notice the electricity circulating through the thin yet dark clouds, the strange, grainy-looking texture, the lack of rain yet the surplus of wind. He had seen a storm like this one before; only once, but nearly twice as bad as this.

He had seen it the first time he had ventured into Hell; the time he gave the devil an I.O.U. on his soul, in exchange for 'El Diablo'.

Then Murdoc Niccals laughed at himself. There was no way this could be a storm from Hell. It had been a stupid thought.

He retreated back to his chair and lit another fag, just as another huge blast of thunder rattled the ceiling above.

Murdoc was wrong, of course, just as he had told himself. This was no storm from Hell. It was a storm from a few levels above Hell; in a place called the Subterram. A place where an evil soul lurked, a soul from the very bowels of the inferno. A soul much more dangerous than many things that lived in the layers below it. A soul that wanted Murdoc. Dead.

But Murdoc didn't know any of this. And he wouldn't know any of this until a about a week later.

But by then, it would be too late.

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**A/N: Cue the dramatic music!**

** I hope you all like it so far. I'm so excited to write more, so I'll hopefully update really soon! But you know what inspires me to update even faster? You guessed it: reviews! Reviews are so nice, and they just totally make my day. So if you liked it, feel free to click the button below and tell me what you think!**

** Oh, and for any 2D fans, (such as myself), I'm sorry he doesn't really make an appearance in this chapter, even though I listed him as the second character. He's listed that way for a reason, though, I promise!**

** Thanks so much!**

** Until next time, **

** ~blue-eyed-cow**


	2. Chapter One: The Servant's Deception

**A/N: Here's chapter one! Thanks so much to everyone who reviewed! This is really fun to write, so I'm glad you readers like it so far :) **

** Disclaimer: I do not own Gorillaz.**

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~Chapter One: The Servant's Deception~

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Murdoc Niccals was currently attempting to get over one of the worst hangovers he'd ever had.

It all started yesterday, March 3rd, the day the new album was released. Naturally, it had been an extremely exciting night for the leader of the band. He had been working on Plastic Beach for what seemed like forever, and now it was finally being publicized. To celebrate, he thought it was a brilliant idea to invite all the guest singers and directors and basically everyone else who worked on the album over to the island for a huge party. He even allowed 2D to come up for a half hour or so, (mostly to not arouse suspicion among the other people at the party, most of which didn't exactly know that 2D was being held there against his will), to chat with the guests, have a few drinks, and all that other jazz. The singer had looked happier than he had in almost the full year he had been here. If Murdoc weren't so busy, he would have been disgusted.

Eventually, a few drinks turned into enough drinks, and enough drinks turned into too many drinks, and too many drinks had turned into a 'what's-my-name-again?' amount of drinks. And the next morning, when most of the people who attended the party left in their submarines and their fancy little airplanes, Murdoc was out cold on the couch, Cyborg Noodle hovering over him, anxious for him to wake up. And when he did, it took him about half an hour to get used to the light, an hour to sit up, another hour to be able to stand up, and about two hours to get his head to stop spinning enough to be able to walk. After that, it was straight to the loo.

Now it was about eight o'clock. The sky was just beginning to get dark, and Murdoc was sitting up in bed, still not feeling too fresh, browsing the web on some crummy little laptop he had bought off the Internet a few months back. So far, Plastic Beach was getting fairly good reviews. And, of course, every time he found something bad about it on a blog or whatnot, he'd just post an anonymous review insulting the author's mother. It made the bassist feel accomplished.

Soon there was a knock on his door, and when he grunted in response, in walked Cyborg Noodle, holding a tray of food. In her mechanical, slightly Japanese-accented voice, she asked, "Would master like a sandwich and water?"

Murdoc was still in a slightly bad mood, and was about to command the robot to get him some bloody _rum, _not a freaking glass of water. He stopped himself, however, when his stomach gave another unpleasant lurch, reminding him that water would probably be the best choice right about now. Annoyed, he spat, "Fine! Fine, then, give it here!"

Ignoring her master's rude tone as always, she walked over to his bed, which had been cleared of all his fancy hats, (he liked to wear them while reading jazz magazines). Then she carefully placed the tray on the bedside table, which held a clock that was a few hours off, a pack of cigarettes, a wallet, and a Mickey Mouse phone holder. Then the robot girl turned back to Murdoc, saluted him, and asked, "Is there anything else I can do for you at this time, master?"

Murdoc grunted again, growing slightly agitated with that mechanical tone of voice. "Yeah, you can fuck off and go power down."

The robot saluted one more time before walking back to the large, metal door. She turned the wheel, opened the door, and was about to step out. But she stopped half way out. Then she looked over her shoulder at Murdoc, who was watching her suspiciously through narrowed eyes.

Murdoc knew that something was up with her. It had started about a week ago, when Murdoc was drunk again and cracked a joke about some inappropriate topic. He and the cyborg were the only ones there. And the cyborg… she _laughed. _She smiled and laughed. She wasn't programmed to laugh unless commanded to. She had smiled a few times, yes, when doing something particularly evil. But this was… different. It was a scary laugh; mechanical and hard-sounding. Too loud. Too unnatural. Murdoc would never, ever admit it, but it was a little unnerving. Then, a few days later, Murdoc told her that he didn't need her at the moment. And he could have sworn she looked almost… remorseful. And yesterday, when he told her he was going to throw a party and began to command her to start making the arrangements, she almost looked excited. _Excited, _for Pete's sake! She was not programmed to show any of these emotions. She was programmed to show only what he, her master, told her to show. Murdoc knew something was wrong. So he told himself he'd keep an extra eye on her. However, because of the hangover, he had been neglecting that claim. Until now, when she was, once again, acting strangely. Her movements were slow. Her body was tense. As if she was… expecting something. Murdoc didn't like it. He didn't like it one bit.

So now, when she turned back around to face him, Murdoc was suspicious even before what happened next.

An evil smile spread across the fake Noodle's face. Something in her hidden green eyes flashed. And, in a low, mischievous voice, she hissed, "Goodnight, _master,"_ the word contained so much sarcasm that Murdoc flinched, "it was not nice working with you!"

A gun sprang out of her mouth, locked and loaded. Ready to fire. Murdoc, scared out of his wit, only just had time to dive behind the bed before a stream of bullets was fired from her mouth. This was it. He was going to die here. Shot dead by his own creation.

However, Murdoc didn't hear the bullets hit the ground around him, or the bed, or even him. Instead, he heard them hit metal. Something clattered to the ground, and then he heard the door slam shut. All was silent.

For a while he remained crouched behind the bed, heart beating fast, head still spinning. He wasn't dead. Then what had happened?

Slowly, the man sat up a little straighter and peeked over the side of the bed. He was alone. For a second he wondered if that had all been some kind of drug-induced vision. But then he saw something lying on the floor near the door. It was the metal wheel that was the handle to the door. Shot off. The door was bare.

'_No. No, no, no. She wouldn't have!' _Murdoc's thoughts were panicked and jumbled. He stood up, but the fast movement made his head spin, and he nearly fell back onto the bed. He grasped the bedside table for support instead. The tray with the sandwich and water fell onto the ground, sending liquid and food all over the ground. And that's when Murdoc knew. He knew the cyborg was no longer in his control.

He hadn't felt so vulnerable since he found the island.

Then the man shook his head frantically, growling at his own weakness. He would be fine. He'd just shut down the stupid robot that had obviously malfunctioned sometime last week. Easy peasy. No problemo.

He slowly made his way over to the door. With no handle, he was forced to just push it open.

It didn't budge.

He tried again.

Nothing.

Shit.

He stood there for a few minutes, completely lost of ideas. He was stuck here, in the Master Suit. What did the cyborg plan on doing while he was in here? Wreak havoc on the island? Kill the other residents? Escape from this damned place? Murdoc didn't want to wait to find out. He hurried back to the other side of the room, where about twenty cardboard boxes were all stacked. He frantically began to search through them. There had to be something here that could help him get out of this hell hole!

That's when he found it: an old rifle. He quickly dusted it off, then clicked open the chamber. Three bullets. He only had three bullets. He knew he had more guns in the study, and even more in his secret chamber beneath the lighthouse. But would these three bullets last him long enough to get there?

He had to try.

He readied the gun, then quickly made his way back to the door. There were two hinges. He'd save the last bullet for the cyborg. He'd only have one change at this. Satan knows he hadn't shot a gun since the bodyguard was built. But he had to try. He had to.

He raised the barrel of the gun to the first hinge, aimed, and pulled the trigger. The bullet hit the hinge then ricocheted off of it. Murdoc jumped out of the way before it could hit him. He grimaced. He had forgot bullets could do that. Slightly more careful this time, he readied the gun again then aimed at the second hinge. He pulled the trigger, and the same thing happened. Now both of the hinges were weakened.

Grinning at his good aim, Murdoc held the rifle close to him, backed up away from the door, and then charged shoulder first into it. It fell right over, and Murdoc went flying into the hallway, landing hard on his right shoulder. He cringed, head spinning, then slowly stood up.

He realized that he had no idea where this stupid scrap piece of metal was. He had no plan. Nonetheless, he pressed the button to call the lift, gun loaded just in case. Soon the doors slid open, and Murdoc stepped into the small circular lift, thrilled to see there was no one else in there. Then he stared at the panel. He could go into the study, flee into the secret entrance of his hideout, then take a submarine out of there. He could go ask Dave if he had seen the cyborg lately. He could go warn 2D. He could gather more artillery, then find the robot and face her head on. Or he could just go to the roof and jump off.

No. No, he wouldn't stoop so low. He was Murdoc Faust Niccals. He was better than that.

He pressed the button to 2D's room. The lift began to move.

In a few seconds, the lift came to a sudden stop, and the doors slid open, revealing a poorly lit hallway. Murdoc hurried to the one door at the end of it, hardly believing what he was doing. It was so uncharacteristic of him to actually care about, well, _anyone. _

'_Well, not a lot is making much sense today, anyways,' _he thought ruefully as he came to the door. It was the kind of door that could only open from the outside, so there was no use of knocking, (not that Murdoc would have knocked, anyways). Instead, Murdoc twisted the handle and forced the door open.

Stuart Pot was sitting up in his bed, a small DVD player sitting in his lap. He must have been watching one of his stupid zombie moves of something, because screams and other gruesome noises could be heard coming from the device. When the door opened, he looked up in surprise. "Oh, hey Muds. I thought you were dead."

Murdoc stared at the blue-haired man, lost for words, the rifle hanging limply in his right hand. Then he spat, "What the bloody hell are you talking about?"

2D pressed pause on the DVD player, closed it, then faced Murdoc again. "Well, I heard some gunshots."

Murdoc narrowed his eyes. "So you just assumed I was dead, and you didn't even bother coming to check?"

"Well, how could I? With that whale guarding me, I can't leave, can I?" 2D shot back. "And what's with the rifle?"

Murdoc was tempted to tell him it was to shoot him in his stupid, muddled face. But then he remembered that there was a metal death machine roaming the building as they spoke. He gathered all the patience he possible could, more than he even knew he possessed, and said, "Cyborg's gone haywire. She shot the handle off my door and locked me in. Now she's probably running around the fucking building, ready to kill any bloke she finds. We're grabbing any thing we need and getting out of here."

2D's face drained of the little color it already possessed. "I-is she… armed?"

Murdoc lost it. "Yes, she is fucking armed, idiot! She has a gun in her friggin' _mouth, _for Satan's sake! Now hurry up and gather whatever it is you want to keep and let's head for the subs!"

"But… why didn't she kill you when she had the chance?" He stuttered, realizing for the first time how serious the situation really was.

"I wish I knew. Now hurry up! Meet me in the study in five minutes, and warn Dave and Tattoo on the way up. I think we should have enough subs for both of them." And with that, Murdoc turned on his heels and ran back for the door, finally being able to move fast without his head spinning.

Just as he reached the lift, he heard 2D yell, "Wait, Murdoc! What about the whale?"

Murdoc groaned, ran back to the window in his room, opened the shades, and banged on the glass hard. 2D squeaked. Ignoring him, Murdoc waiting until the beast's eye was visible, then yelled, "The deal's off! You have your money! Now fuck off!"

The whale swam away. 2D looked at Murdoc, mouth hanging open. "Was that… all I needed to do?"

Murdoc grunted and ran from the room once again.

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A few minutes later, Murdoc was back in the lift, going up to the Study. So far he had no run ins with Cyborg Noodle, much to his relief. He had gone up to his room once again, and quickly packed a small duffle bag filled with some bottles of rum, a few packs of cigarettes, a lighter, his wallet, (filled with spare coins and his many bank cards), his cell phone, and a few other knickknacks that he refused to let go of. The last thing he grabbed was 'El Diablo', which was conveniently already in its case. Then, with his bags and the rifle in tow, he made a run for the lift and punched the button several times. He was surprised how fast it came. He had thought 2D might have be using it, but Murdoc guessed that he was either still packing, or already up there.

The lift stopped at the top floor, and Murdoc was about to step out when he heard something that made his twisted heart drop into his stomach. It was 2D. Screaming.

Swearing loudly, Murdoc threw his bag and bass case out of the doors into the study, then pressed the button to 2D's room. The doors slid close again. Armed only with a gun with one bullet remaining, the lift sank back down to the underwater basement. It seemed to take forever to get down there. The longest lift ride of Murdoc's life, no doubt. And as the lift sank lower and lower in its shaft, 2D's screams and sobs and whimpers were becoming more and more audible. It was nerve wrecking.

When the lift finally stopped, Murdoc almost didn't want to get out. But then he reminded himself who he was. He readied the gun as the doors slid open.

There was Cyborg Noodle, standing at the end of the hall. And there was 2D, cowering in front of her, pinned to the wall by her metal grip. She had the barrel of a gun to his head. The robot spun to face her former master. She grinned. 2D whimpered again.

Instinctively, the Satanist stepped out of the lift and raised the rifle. He knew he couldn't shoot; not with the robot's gun to the singer's head. Even if Murdoc didn't think she'd shoot 2D, he didn't want to hit him by accident. He had gotten lucky back in his room.

So instead, Murdoc kept the gun raised, hoping she wouldn't be able to see how much his arms were shaking. "Leave him alone. He didn't do nothing. Put down the gun." He hated how much his gruff voice shook.

No one would have guessed what happened next. The cyborg actually lowered the gun. She let go of 2D's shirt, and he slid down the wall onto the floor next to his duffle bag and a guitar case, empty eyes wide with fear. Murdoc raised his eyebrows. Had she actually listened to him? Was he still in charge of her?

But then she reached inside her pocket of her black tights. Murdoc, too shocked to shoot, just watched as she brought something small and metal out of her pocket. She held it up, as if to show them what it was. It was a small metal handle. On top of it was a red button. Her thumb was hovering over it.

Murdoc had a pretty good idea of what it was, but he couldn't help but ask. "Love, what's that?"

She smiled her evil, mechanical smile again. "Bomb trigger. The island is about to blow when I press button." She looked like she had just done something that would please her master. Murdoc was far from pleased. Murdoc was terrified.

How could so much have gone so wrong in only fifteen minutes?

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**A/N: Whelp? How'd I do? Please review and tell me what you think! Next chapter will be up as soon as possible. **

**Thanks for reading!**

**~blue-eyed-cow**


	3. Chapter Two: Protracted

**A/N: I'm pretty frustrated right now. I've been working on this chapter for weeks, on top of all the homework and projects and other crap that I have to do. I spent so long writing this one, but… I really don't like how it turned out. Oh, well. Hope you guys enjoy it more than I enjoyed writing it, because this was torture. Don't worry, though; after this chapter it's all smooth sailing. It's going to be a blast :) **

**This one's from 2D's POV (Kind of. It's still 3****rd**** person, but… yeah, you get the point). You need to know a little about Murdoc's 'secret lair' to understand some of it, but if you don't I'm sure you can manage just fine.**

**Enjoy!**

**Disclaimer: Nope. Don't own it.**

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~Chapter Two: Protracted~

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The whole scene seemed frozen in time, like everyone was just stuck where they were, unable to move. Unable to breathe. Unable to do _anything, _really. Yet 2D could see everything that was happening perfectly. Did he understand what was happening perfectly? No, not really. Did he understand what was happening at all? Nope. Yet here it was. There he was, sitting on the floor with his back against the wall, too scared to do anything other than let out the occasional whimper. There was Murdoc, who had just lowered his gun and was now staring at the button in the Cyborg's hand, his mouth hanging open slightly. And there was the Cyborg, who was smiling a huge, evil grin, the bomb trigger still held up high for the world to see. The world was frozen. Nothing happened. Nothing stirred.

It was then, during that silence that seemed to eat away at the very souls of the band mates, that 2D realized how entirely hopeless the whole situation was. Murdoc wasn't going to get them out of this one. They were going to die in a fiery explosion of plastic. He was going to die. Stuart Pot was going to die.

A sob escaped his lips.

Then something shifted. Something changed. Something actually happened. And it didn't, in any way or form, involve the island blowing to smithereens.

The cyborg's metal body suddenly went very stiff. One of her arms started twitching at her side. One of her knees gave out, and she sank down onto the other. Sparks sprang up out of her ears and eyes. And then…

She fell.

And didn't get back up.

2D looked up at Murdoc. Murdoc looked down at 2D. There was another type of silence lingering in the air now; one that had replaced the 'Doomsday Silence'. This was a different silence. It was a 'Holy-Crap-Did-That-Really-Just-Happen?' silence.

"Is she… dead?" 2D finally whispered, not trusting his legs enough to stand.

Murdoc didn't answer right away. Instead, he approached the robot that was sprawled across the ground, and cautiously nudged the side of her head with the toe of his boot.

For a moment, nothing happened. 2D was finally about to let out the breath he had been holding this whole time. But then the body twitched. It twitched again. And again. It beeped. It tightened its grip on the bomb trigger.

Breathing would have to wait.

"To the subs!" Murdoc yelled, already turning on his heels and sprinting to the lift. 2D grabbed his duffle bag and acoustic guitar case, stood up, and followed the Satanist into the circular elevator. Murdoc furiously pounded the button to the Study. The doors slid closed, blocking off the two men's view of the writhing mechanical figure. Then the lift began to move. Up, up, up. 2D had never felt more claustrophobic in his entire life. He wondered what would happen if the elevator just stopped right now. What if the cyborg cut the cables? What if it fell? What if she blew up the island while they were still on this death trap? The more thoughts entered the singer's usually empty head, the more he quivered in his boots. The fact that he was trapped in there with the man who had been keeping him captive for the past few months, nearly starved him to death, and forced him to use his amazing vocals for his mucked-up album wasn't helping much, either.

After what seemed like an eternity, the lift came to a stop and the doors opened, revealing the large study. Murdoc instantly strode out and retrieved his bags that were lying on the ground; 2D inferred that he must have abandoned them when he came to the rescue. Then the green-skinned man hurried to the writing desk pushed up against the opposite wall. He pulled open a drawer and retrieved something from inside of it.

"Catch," he told 2D as he threw whatever had been in the drawer at him. Instinctively, 2D threw up his arms to protect his face, and he felt something hard bounce off of them and land on the ground.

"Careful, faceache, I don't know if the safety's on!" Murdoc yelled, sending 2D a nasty glare. 2D glanced down at his feet. A small handgun was lying on the ground. He looked back up at Murdoc, who shrugged. "I have my one bullet left, and there's some machine guns where we're heading. I'll just grab some of those."

2D was a little surprised Murdoc trusted him enough to give him a gun, but stooped down to retrieve it nonetheless. When he stood back up, he couldn't see Murdoc anywhere. He almost panicked, but then he caught sight of the bassist standing by the wall in front of a large bookcase. If 2D didn't know any better, it would have seemed like Murdoc was looking for a good read!

"Er, Muds? What are you doing? I thought we were getting to the subs." 2D approached Murdoc carefully.

Murdoc didn't turn around; he kept his eyes on the bookshelf, searching for something intently. "We are."

"Then why-?"

"I need to push The Bastard."

"Well then why don't you just push yourself?"

Murdoc finally glanced over at 2D, sending him another nasty glare. "No, you idiot, it's a book! You know, like the book you see in movies that you have to push to get the bookcase to turn around."

"Really? I've always wanted to try one of those!"

"Good, so _you_ can find the book. My vision is… er, well… just look for the damn book! I'm going to call Tattoo and Dave," Murdoc told him, apparently embarrassed that he had reached the age when his vision had begun to fail him. He ran back to where the elevator was, pushed the button to open the doors, and yelled down the shaft, "Dave, Tattoo! Get your lazy asses up to the study, go down to the lair, and get to the subs! You need to get off the island! Turn off the elevator once you get up here, too!" Then he shut the doors again.

After scoping the shelves for The Bastard, 2D finally found the right book. Just as Murdoc joined him in front of the bookcase, 2D gave the side of the book a small push. Almost instantly, unseen gears began to turn, and the bookcase slowly swung open like a giant door. 2D couldn't help but beam. "That was so cool! Just like in me movies! Right Murdoc?"

He didn't get an answer.

"Murdoc?"

Again, none.

"Mur-!"

"I'm down here, moron! The subs are at the bottom of the stairs, not the top!" He heard Murdoc's gravelly voice echo up from the hidden passage. 2D squinted into the darkness in front of him. Then he saw what the bookcase was really hiding: a set of dark, spiraled stairs going downward.

"Oh… coming!"

So he picked up his duffle bag, gun, and guitar case, made sure his meds and cell phone were securely in his pocket, adjusted his captain's hat, and started descending the stairs. It was really dark, and he had to squint hard to ensure he wouldn't miss a step and fall. His bags were heavy, and after ten seconds it got even darker. 2D gripped the railing for dear life.

He kept expecting the stairs to end after one bend, then the next, and the next, but they never did. They just kept on going. 2D frowned, wondering if it was possible to be going in circles while going down stairs.

After another minute, it began to get a bit ridiculous.

"What's taking you so long, faceache? Hurry up!" Murdoc's voice once again echoed from below 2D. It didn't sound like he was too far away, but the only person 2D could hear going down the stairs was himself.

"Sorry, there just seems to be an incomprehensible amount of steps!" 2D called back, still heading downwards. His legs were beginning to get tired.

"Well hurry up, will you? Seriously, how long does it take to walk down a never-ending case of stairs, eh?"

2D almost lost his footing. _"What?"_

"What, yourself! You're so slow; I got down _ages _ago!"

"But how's that even possibl-?"

The singer should have been paying more attention to his footing, because, mid-sentence, he finally missed a step. He stumbled forward, trying to catch himself on the railing, but the weight of his guitar case and duffle bag dragged him down, and soon he found himself tumbling down the flight of spiraled stairs, a tangle of arms, legs, and a gun.

Sooner than he expected, he came to an abrupt halt when he collided with something hard. For a few seconds he just sort of lay there, aching all over, trying to get the world to stop spinning. His head throbbed, and he could almost feel a large lump beginning to form. Then he felt something grab him by the front of his shirt and pull him roughly to his feet. Slowly, he opened his eyes and found himself face-to-face with a very angry looking Murdoc. And when he said face-to-face, he _meant_ face-to-face. The singer's face was a mere inch or so away from Murdoc's, and it was _not _a pretty sight.

"What the bloody hell do you think you're doing?" Murdoc spat. 2D winced as the stench of Murdoc's breath hit his nose. It smelled like tobacco and booze.

"Sorry, Muds, I just didn't know tripping down a flight of never-ending stairs could hurt so much…" 2D mumbled in reply, trying half-heartedly to push away from Murdoc's grasp.

Murdoc snorted in disgust, then let the singer fall back onto the ground. "Come on."

2D slowly stood up, wincing as he put more weight on his legs, and hobbled after Murdoc, who had just rushed through a metal push-door on the left. When the singer walked through the doorway, a strange sight greeted him. He was in some sort of secret room. It must have been underwater, because it was completely made of dense metal, and fine layers of mold streaked the ceiling and upper walls as if there had been a leak. In front of the door were multiple cardboard boxes, which all smelled atrocious. On the opposite wall was a large array of guns, harpoons, and other rusty weapons. In the center of the room was a high-tech looking war table, and on the same wall as the door they had entered through was a large display of computer monitors, all focused on different things. Some showed rooms and other locations, while others had Internet pages open. Some were just broken or flashing things they weren't supposed to, which wasn't surprising; there was at least one thing in every room that didn't work properly.

"What is this place?" 2D asked in a slightly dazed voice, taking the strange sight all in. He hadn't really been out of his room much in the last few months, (like he had much of a choice), so it wasn't like he knew his way around all that well. But this definitely seemed like some sort of secret lair.

"My secret lair, of course!"

Bingo.

"Does the cyborg know about it?" 2D asked, still awkwardly standing by the door.

Murdoc was standing in front of the monitors, probably searching for any signs of the killer now. "Unfortunately, she knows about all the secret rooms on the island…"

"There are more?"

Murdoc finally lost it with all the questions. "Yes, there are more, you moron! They're all over the island! But it won't matter once it's blown to smithereens, will it?" He yelled angrily, face turning a violent shade of red, which looked odd on top of his green skin.

2D instantly shrunk back against the wall, covering his face with his hands in case Murdoc decided to hit him. When nothing happened for a few seconds, he lowered his hands again and saw Murdoc still looking at the monitors, eyes narrowed in concentration. 2D popped a few of his headache pills.

After a few more seconds, he turned back to 2D, his face it's normal (well, almost normal) color again, and said, "Dave and Tattoo are headed for the lift. But the cyborg's up again and heading the same way. I don't know why she hasn't just pushed the goddamned button yet, but we need to leave. Now." He was already at the wall with the guns on it by the time he finished talking, and had pulled down a large machine gun off of its shelf and replaced it with the old rifle he had been using before.

2D was about to ask where the subs were, but then decided it was probably best not to ask any more questions for the time being. Instead, he just nodded. The band mates gathered all their bags, weapons, and instrument cases and readied to go.

"The tunnel to the subs is right over here," Murdoc carried his things over to a doorway next to a large rusty anchor that 2D hadn't noticed before. "Let's move." Then he grabbed the handle and yanked the new door open. He was about to step through the doorway, when he suddenly froze, staring intently at something. 2D followed the Satanist's gaze to something on a stand next to the door. 2D didn't see how he could have missed it before.

On a tall stand near the war table was a large, old-looking book. It was faded and the binding was worn. On the front, in fancy lettering, read 'The Plastic Beach'. The book was sealed shut with a large lock.

"Murdoc, what's that?"

Murdoc's eyes never left the book. He was staring at it as if it held all the answers of life in its pages. Murdoc looked wistful; hungry, even. 2D didn't like it.

"Murdoc?" 2D repeated again, this time more intently.

His eyes still didn't waver. "Hmm?"

"What is that?"

"It's the… the book…"

"The book… about Plastic Beach?" 2D asked, confused.

"No… about everything… it just knows where… we are…"

2D was beginning to get worried. He didn't like all this talk of books knowing where he was. They had to get moving. The island could blow at any second, for Pete's sake! "Murdoc, you can bring the book if you want to, but we need to go!"

"The key's upstairs…"

2D tried not to groan, in fear of Murdoc getting angry with him. "Then I'm sorry, but we don't have time to get it. If we could just go-"

Murdoc finally turned to face the singer. But something was wrong. His eyes were far off; his body rigid. In a low, demonic-sounding voice, he hissed, "I need the key. I _need_ it! GODDAMMIT, D, GIVE ME THAT KEY!" Murdoc was screaming, now, his eyes ablaze. His body was tensed and he was shaking. 2D stumbled back against the wall, mouth hanging open, completely unsure of what the hell was happening. Murdoc had started towards him menacingly, when…

An alarm suddenly blasted through a speaker next to the monitors. A red light flashed.

Murdoc stopped in his tracks, frozen where he stood. Something in his eyes flashed again. He stopped shaking.

The alarm had snapped him out of the trance.

"Murdoc, what does that alarm mean?" 2D asked, trying to sound braver than he felt. He had absolutely no idea what just happened, but right now the most important thing was getting off the island.

Murdoc swallowed hard, and in a hoarse voice rasped, "Means someone's coming down the stairs. Could be Dave and Tattoo, or…"

He didn't need to finish. Both of them knew who else could be coming this way.

"Murdoc, we need to go. _Please,_" the blue-haired man stressed the word, determined to not let Murdoc get distracted again.

Murdoc nodded slowly.

Once again, they both picked up their things, then made a run for the door.

The book was left behind.

2D had no idea where they were going, so he was really hoping Murdoc knew. The door had led to a low-ceilinged hallway. It was damp and dark, and 2D couldn't help but feel trapped. If they were in fact underwater, was that whale out there right now? 2D didn't even want to think about it.

After a few minutes of sprinting down the dark passage, guns readied just in case, they finally came to the end. In front of them was a metal ladder, going up. Murdoc immediately stuffed his gun in his duffle bag and slung that over his back. Then he turned to 2D and said, "Throw up the instrument cases when I tell you to." With that, he hoped onto the ladder and started to climb. 2D watched as he climbed about ten feet, then hoped off onto another landing the singer hadn't seen before. The then hung his head and arms over the side and yelled down, "Now pass up the cases!"

Being tall, 2D could pass up the two cases without too much difficulty. After that was done, he, too, slung his bag over his back and climbed up to the landing. Murdoc didn't offer him a helping hand. Instead, when 2D hoisted himself up, Murdoc was already pulling open another door at the end of a small hallway in front of the landing. 2D followed quickly.

When he stepped through this doorway, a much different sight than Murdoc's secret lair greeted him. This door led to a huge cave. It took 2D a second to realize they were in an under-ground harbor. They were standing on a rocky ledge, and in front of them was a long, wooden dock. Many submarines of different shapes and sizes were parked along the dock, all bobbing merrily above the dark water.

"So this is where you were keeping the subs, eh?" 2D asked quietly.

Murdoc smirked. "Yup; my own secret harbor! We're right under the lighthouse, yeah know. Impressive, eh?"

"Yeah, but we should probably, uh, get off the island now."

Murdoc's good mood was instantly exterminated when he was reminded that he had to evacuate his own kingdom. "Don't tell me what to do, faceache," and with that he walked to the docks, giving 2D a push on the way by. The singer caught himself before he could fall.

Murdoc brought his stuff over to one of the first subs; it was a huge, strange-shaped one; dark blue and very different from any of the others. As 2D himself approached it, he realized what it was: a shark-shaped submarine. The mechanical shark's mouth was open, revealing a huge glass window.

"Blimey…"

Murdoc climbed a ladder to the top of the sub, where he was already opening the hatch to get in. When he opened the circular door, he threw his stuff inside, then jumped in, out of view. 2D hurried over and did the same, closing the hatch behind him.

When he landed inside, he instantly found that the sub looked a lot bigger from the outside than it was inside. Bright flashing lights, wide arrays of buttons and switches, and monitor screens lined the crowded walls. Everything smelled like a strange combination of gasoline and seafood.

2D placed down his bags, as well as the gun, in the back next to Murdoc's. Then he carefully made his way up to the front of the sub, trying hard not to touch anything. Murdoc was sitting in a chair in front of the control panels in the front, already pushing buttons, flipping switches, and pulling levers. Just watching the process was giving 2D another headache.

In a few minutes, 2D heard the submarine's propeller system roar to life. Some more lights flashed. A dull '_beep… beep… beep' _started from somewhere.

They were ready to leave.

Murdoc stared out the huge windshield for a few seconds more, his focus somewhere else. "Goodbye, Point Nemo," he finally mumbled, eyes narrowed, "thanks for being worthy of housing someone as awesome as me."

The mechanical shark sank under the water.

2D watched out the window as they sunk deeper and began moving forward. The blue-haired man assumed that they must be heading out of the hidden harbor, because one second it was dark, and then the next light streamed in from the window. They were in open ocean now.

2D never liked the ocean much; mostly because it held the worst thing God had ever created in it; whales. But now, the water didn't look half bad. There was coral and seaweed of all different colors, schools of fish shimmering as they swam by, and even groups of Superfast Jellyfish, bobbing up and down in the water and wearing a happy little smile, as always. It all seemed very… peaceful. 2D almost forgot that they had just escaped from a place that was extremely explosive, and therefore extremely dangerous.

Almost.

They hadn't even gone for a minute before something hit them. Hard.

First came the noise. Even as far underwater as they were, they could hear the deafening sound of an explosion as if it were right behind them. It was loud enough to make anyone's heart stop beating. And for a moment, the water turned a violent shade of orange and red; a reflection of the fiery explosion taking place above it.

Then came the waves and the pieces of the island hitting them. The blast had such force behind it that the sub suddenly spun out of control, tumbling and rolling forward as if it had been hit with a gust of wind. Murdoc and 2D were sent flying forwards into the thick window, then backwards, then forwards again. Something hard hit 2D in the stomach, then in the back of the head, then he felt himself slam into something behind him. He bit his lip to not cry out, but the whole scene was so chaotic he doubted anyone would hear him, anyways. Then there came smaller noises; this time much closer. It sounded like someone was throwing rocks at the sides of the shark. 2D was too dizzy to realize it was pieces of the plastic island that were pelting them.

After what seemed like an eternity, the sub slowed down and stopped spinning. Now it was just floating idly underwater, taking it wherever the dull current wished. 2D found himself lying on the floor of the sub, near the back. His whole body ached, and he felt something warm trickling down the back of his neck. He realized with a jolt of fear that it must be blood. He continued lying there for a while, trying to get the world to stop spinning. Soon, he slowly sat up, using the metal wall for support, and looked around. Their bags were thrown everywhere, but everything seemed relatively in tact. An alarm was blaring from the wall; a big red light flashing repeatedly. Then 2D found Murdoc. He was curled up around the base of the chair in front, as if he was holding onto it for dear life. The singer realized that he must have found something to hold on to during the disaster. Good for him.

Murdoc slowly uncurled himself, using his shaking arms to hoist himself up. When he stood up, 2D saw that his lip was bleeding and his face was slightly bruised, but other than that he looked fine.

"Still alive back there?" Murdoc called to him, slumping back down into his captain's chair.

"Barely… I think me head's bleeding." 2D replied back in a dazed voice, slowly standing up. He reached for his pocket to pop a few more of his pills, and was surprised to find both his pill bottle and his cell phone in tact.

"Meh, get over it," Murdoc told him. He turned back to the controls, put his hands on the steering sticks, and…

"FUCK!" Murdoc screeched, instantly snatching his fingers away from the controls. "I think my bloody finger's broken!"

2D stumbled over, and sure enough, Murdoc's right pointer finger was black and swollen. "Huh. Must have gotten jammed on something when we were getting tossed around."

One of the Satanist's eyes twitched. "No shit, Sherlock. Now hand me a cig, will yeah? And check for any water leaks. That alarm is bothering the living shit out of me. We need to get this show on the road."

2D did as he was told, getting the Satanist a cigarette and a lighter from his bag and checking the walls of the subs for any visible water they were taking on. When he couldn't find any, he reported back to Murdoc, who was struggling to steer without moving his pointer finger. The bassist had managed to shut the alarm off, ("Dunno why the damn thing's going off if everything's bright and dandy here…"), and together the two rode away from the pile of melted plastic that used to be Plastic Beach.

2D was free. His prison was blown to pieces. The two things that had been trying to kill him were probably blown to pieces, too. And the other thing that had been trying to kill him had a broken finger. Stuart Pot was safe.

So why did he feel like the worst had yet to come?

* * *

**A/N: Eh… I'm not feelin' it. I think the reason I don't like it very much is because the whole thing is moving so fast that 2D doesn't really have time to think. Well, he doesn't think much always, but still. I would have liked to include more about what he was feeling and thinking, but I really can't. Sorry. But I promise that most of the next chapter is going to be pretty laid back; mostly talking and thinking. Oh, it'll be great.**

**But what do you readers think? Please review and let me know what you think! Oh, and if you find any spelling or grammatical errors, please let me know. I'm a terrible proofreader.**

**I know there are a lot of unanswered questions, like where Dave and Tattoo are, where the cyborg is, why she waited so long to blow the place up, where our two heroes are planning on going next, and what was up with that psycho book. Well, do not fret, 'cause I haven't forgotten about those. All questions will be answered in the next chapter, which has a lot more dialogue than this one. Thank God.**

**Thanks for reading!**

**Until next time,**

**~blue-eyed-cow**


	4. Chapter Three: Back Into Her Clutches

**A/N: Happy New Year! Sorry for the hiatus, but here's the next chapter! It should answer some important questions, but certainly not all of them, because that'd be no fun. The first half of this is from 2D's 3****rd**** person POV, and the second half is from Murdoc's. **

** Enjoy!**

** Disclaimer: I do not own Gorillaz.**

* * *

~Chapter Three: Back Into Her Clutches~

* * *

2D and Murdoc had been riding in the sub for about an hour before anyone spoke. Murdoc had been mumbling nearly the whole time, his mismatched eyes glaring into the murky ocean in front of him. He mumbled about "that damn cyborg" and "bloody finger" and "more cigarettes". 2D sat on a small platform to the side. He didn't want to watch for superfast jellyfish or colorful seaweed anymore. In fact, up until now he had let his mind do as it pleased, and what it pleased to do was absolutely nothing. It drifted off into a place where nothing could touch it and it could touch nothing.

But after the first hour, 2D's mind was deprived of its liberty when it began drifting back to what had just happened. The lift. The stairs. The book. The explosion. Questions arose, and they needed answers.

The singer cautiously examined the captain of the sub. Murdoc looked as grumpy as ever, his bruised finger outstretched in front of him, the rest gripping the steering fork. 2D swallowed heavily and took a chance.

"Murdoc?"

Murdoc jumped, as if he forgot 2D was even there, and then his face went back to its grumpy demeanor. He didn't look at him. "What?"

2D meant to ask the question of all questions. He wanted to sum up all his worries and confusion in only one question, and then have that question answered, and then for everything to be right again. Like it used to be back in Kong when the four of them would laugh together. But instead, the only thing that came out of 2D's mouth was, "Why?"

He hoped Murdoc would understand the vastness of the question (much more than 2D did), but instead Murdoc just glared at him. "Mind being a bit more specific, dullard?"

2D started off simple. "Why did she wait to blow up the island?"

"How the hell am I supposed to know?" Murdoc asked grumpily, breaking his stare with 2D and looking back into the ocean, occasionally checking the radar and the map in front of him.

2D waited for a better answer.

Murdoc continued, talking more to himself than anyone else. "Maybe she didn't want to kill us and just take the island out? Maybe she's just too slow and stupid?"

Neither answer seemed very convincing, but 2D shrugged and didn't press the matter. He knew that if he did, he would probably get hit. So he asked another. "Why… what… what happened?"

"To the cyborg?" Murdoc glanced over his shoulder again at the singer, who nodded. "Malfunctioned, that's all I can think of. Knew it was bound to happen eventually…"

"Do you think she's gone?"

"Well, I don't see how she could have gotten away; we would have seen her evacuate if she did, wouldn't we? Now, enough with all the questions, and get me some rum out of my bag."

Grimacing, 2D did as he was told, even if he felt like telling Murdoc he had had enough to drink last night as is. The blue-haired man had so many more questions to ask, but decided to wait until Murdoc had taken a few swigs of the rum bottle. For some odd reason that 2D only partly understood, Murdoc was a lot more tolerant when he had at least a little bit of alcohol in him, as opposed to none. At least, that's how it was now. It used to be the opposite.

A lot had changed since 2006.

A few minutes later, 2D asked, "Where are Dave and Tattoo?"

Murdoc went stiff for a second, staring intently at the radar. Then he said, "If they got away, they must have gone in the opposite direction, because they aren't on the bloody radar."

2D heard something in the bassists' voice right away, and he couldn't help but state the obvious. "They didn't get away."

Murdoc looked murderous just then, but then he took another swig from the bottle and simply sighed.

A few more seconds of silence, another question forming in 2D's head. He had a lot left, and now was carefully pondering the order of which he would ask them. Pondering as well as 2D could ponder, that was. He wished he could ask the two remaining questions as the "last question", because they both seemed appropriate to be the last question, but he had to pick one before the other. Finally, he asked, "Murdoc… what was that book?"

If Murdoc had gone tense when the last question was asked, he was a stone-cold statue when this one was asked. When he switched the sub onto autopilot, 2D thought for sure Murdoc was coming back to hit him. He watched Murdoc swivel his chair around to face him, a cigarette hanging out of his mouth. He took a drag, kept the cigarette in his left hand, and opened his mouth to speak. His voice was pure gravel. "Why do you want to know?"

2D dared to get a little sarcastic. "Well, you nearly killed me because of that bloody thing. I want to know what it is."

Murdoc growled under his breath. "Fine," he grumbled. "Fine, fine, fine. It's gone now, anyways, so what's the point?" His left eye twitched as he gazed out a small porthole window, spinning his cigarette between his fingers. "I found it washed up on the island about a week after I discovered the bloody place. And," a hungry look filled his eyes, "and it knew where it was. It knew… well, it knew everything."

"Huh?" 2D frowned, not fully understanding what that meant.

"Huh, yourself, dullard! It means what it means. Everything about me. Everything that had ever happened. Everything I wanted to know. It was all _there._ I had one day to look through it. It had things even I didn't know about. Unimaginable things. The last chapter was missing, though, and only the title was there: The End of the World."

2D was staring at Murdoc with wide, empty eyes. "Then what?" he asked, like a little kid entranced by a fairy tale.

Murdoc, always appreciative of the extra attention, continued in a particularly dramatic voice. "I searched everywhere for the pages to that last chapter. For so long, in fact, that I barely got to skim the rest of the book. And the next day, the book was locked."

"But who locked it?" 2D asked, frowning.

"I dunno, but that's when I started hearing it."

"It?"

Murdoc nodded grimly, taking another swig of the rum. "Every time I got near that book, strange things started happening. That thing had a mind of it's own. And every bloody time that thing took over, it would tell me to go up stairs to get the key, to unlock the damn thing, even though I didn't have the bloody key! And whenever I would go upstairs to get it the trance would break all over again."

"So, after the first day…"

"Something was in that book. I don't know what it was." His green face went grim again and he stuck the cigarette back into his mouth and said no more.

"Well, it's gone now," 2D said, trying to sound upbeat.

"If only I read more on that first day… I could be the most powerful man on the planet…" Murdoc mumbled, his eyes far away again. 2D watched him curiously. He would never understand the thrill of power, or the sacrifices necessary to experience it.

* * *

Murdoc hadn't told 2D everything about the book. Why the hell would he tell the dullard everything? He didn't need to know everything. Murdoc did. And he could have, too, if only he had that book back… if only he had that key.

He had a vague idea of what had possessed him those many days. Or, rather, the piece that had possessed him. It was just a piece of the full deal. A full deal Murdoc had experienced before.

He just didn't want to admit it to himself.

He had a vague idea of a lot of other things involving this same "deal".

Another thing he didn't want to admit to himself.

His mind was now clouded over by a nice layer of rum, so he wasn't thinking about anything he didn't want to think about.

Until 2D brought it up.

"Now what, Murdoc?"

Murdoc had gone back to steering the sub northeast, and hissed at the question. If there was one thing he didn't want to talk about more than being possessed, it was what the hell the duo was to do next. He started with the simple: "California. About a day's ride. I've got, erm, connections there."

"And… what about me?" 2D asked timidly.

Murdoc raised a greasy eyebrow. "What about you?"

2D just sat there stupidly, his mouth hanging open and his eyes as empty as always.

"Listen, faceache, in case this hasn't gotten through to that dead brain of yours, we're in a bit of a jam. My entire studio has just been blown into smithereens, including all my equipment, records, recordings, and materials. We're stuck. I don't know what the hell is going to happen next. You can tag along if you damn well feel like it, but I don't know what the hell is going to happen after that."

2D opened his mouth to ask another question, but Murdoc cut him off with a threat. "If you ask one more dumb-arse question, I'll pop your empty head right off your shoulders!"

But this question must have been important. "B-b-but Murdo-"

Autopilot on. Murdoc was in front of the singer in an instant and had 2D by the collar of his dirty shirt, ready to punch his annoying little face in.

"Murdoc, wait, does that mean I can leave once we get there?"

The question caught Murdoc by so much surprise, he forgot to hit the dullard, and instead let go of his shirt. The singer slid back down the wall, as he had back in the studio when the cyborg had released him.

A flood of emotions hit the slightly intoxicated Satanist in the face all at once. 2D didn't want to "tag along". He wanted to leave. Sure, Murdoc had brought him to Plastic Beach by brute force, and sure, 2D had made it very clear that he did not want to have anything to do with his former band. But, still…

The 2D during Demon Days secretly idolized Murdoc. The 2D during Demon Days hated being alone. The 2D during Demon Days wouldn't want to leave.

Was Murdoc the one who now wanted the company? Was Murdoc the one that Plastic Beach had taken her strongest toll on?

But Murdoc shooed all of these feelings out of his stubborn head, refusing to feel anything but anger, smugness, and drunk.

His only reply was, "Why should I care, dullard?" And he turned, sat down, switched off autopilot, and continued to steer, his broken finger throbbing more than ever. But he couldn't feel anything anymore.

He was going to be lonely again.

They rode for what seemed like forever. The water went very dark, a reflection of the cloudy sky above it. 2D had fallen asleep on the hard platform, and was curled up into a tight ball, shivering slightly. God only knows what that brainless head of his could dream up, and on a few occasions Murdoc caught him waking up and popping a few of the headache pills he kept in his pocket. Murdoc himself wasn't at all tired. He had just run out of rum and was on his sixth cigarette, trying to keep his mind off more serious matters. The only thing he wanted to think about was getting to California. It would still take several more hours.

First his mind drifted to Dave and Tattoo. Gone.

Then to the Cyborg. Hopefully gone.

Then to the book. Gone and still a mystery.

His finger itched for more rum, but there wasn't any.

His success was ruined.

He needed rum.

The paradise he had built up for himself was broken.

Rum. Where was his rum?

He didn't like not knowing what was going to happen next.

Dammit, where's the rum?

If he had that book he would know what was going to happen.

He grabbed a fistful of his hair with his left hand, still making sure not to move the broken finger. When had this all started going so downhill? Was it the party? The storm last week? Building the cyborg? Burning down Kong?

No. Murdoc knew exactly when it was.

It was when Noodle had left.

Everything had been going great until that day. That day…

It was what secretly kept him up at night. It haunted his sleep whenever he wasn't hung over. It was the reason for all of his troubles.

And the worst part was it was all Murdoc's fault. He tried to blame it on others, but he had eventually given up. And that's when he had decided it:

If Noodle were here, everything would be ok.

Murdoc took a long drag, wishing for nothing more than to get stoned, right then and there. It was a temporary shield from his faults. That's why he needed the rum.

Hours passed. The sea got a shade lighter, although they were down deep enough that not much light reached them anyways. Bags formed under Murdoc's already tired eyes. 2D was just waking up.

"Are we there yet?" he yawned.

Murdoc bit his tongue to keep from exploding into a million fiery pieces of doom. "Shut it, dullard, or I'll punch your face in."

2D didn't say anything until a few hours later, when land was detected on the radar.

California was in sight.

The sub was steered closer to the surface. 2D was standing next to where Murdoc sat, staring out of the front windshield with curious eyes. When it finally surfaced, the two blocked their eyes from the afternoon sun. It was March 5th, and the two had arrived in LA. The first time on actual solid ground in almost a year.

"Hold onto something, faceache," Murdoc yelled to 2D, already pressing buttons of all types as the sub ducked under water again and started propelling towards the land. 2D, not quite knowing what was going to happen but doing as he was told nonetheless, grabbed onto a large pipe protruding out of the wall that he hoped wasn't important.

Murdoc maneuvered around the land until he found a harbor, full of colorful sailboats and motorboats. About 200 meters from land, he spotted a ramp going out of the water for trailers to put boats in. Perfect. He started full speed at the ramp, 2D holding onto the pipe tightly. People at the beach next to the harbor saw the giant metal shark and pointed, panicked, and as the shark seemingly crashed into the ramp, the onlookers watched in awe as the sub transformed into a black, rusty Stylo Camaro, drove right up the ramp, and screeched into a parking lot next to the docks, spurting smoke from the exhaust. And water. Lots of water.

The people of Los Angeles continued to stare as two men hopped out of the car, carrying duffle bags and guitar cases.

Little did Murdoc and 2D know, this was the second sub the onlookers had watched dock there today.

Murdoc and 2D took no more than five steps out of the parking lot and away from the crowd, out of sight, when the undeniable sound of a gun clicking sounded from behind them. Murdoc's breath caught in his throat.

"You will come with me, or you will die," a familiar, evil, and metallic voice came from right behind them.

They didn't need to turn around. They knew she had them in her clutches. They put their bags back in the car and walked off behind the parking lot, two Uzis to their backs.

* * *

**Don't forget to review, or we'll never know what will happen to our somewhat beloved heroes next! I hope you liked it. I know there's probably still a lot of confusion about the book, but don't worry, because I'll get to that.**

** The next chapter is going to be about a character we haven't explored yet. Any guesses on who it might be?**

** Thanks for reading!**

** ~blue-eyed-cow**


	5. Chapter Four: A Change In Plans

_This is it. The time has come. The demons have chased me down and now forced my heavyweight hip hop hand. I need to get there. The expanse, the calm of the eternal briny deep. The Ocean. . The ..Ocean... So this is it... Throw myself into the sea. _

_X Russel Hobbs..._

* * *

~Chapter Four: A Change In Plans~

* * *

He had discarded the note onto the floor of the tiny flat and was now walking in a zombie-like fashion to the door.

Russel Hobbs would not lie: at first, it was going to be suicide. He was done and he was scared and all he wanted to do was throw himself into the ocean. The demons…. they whispered to him at night. Bad things. They would knock on the inside of his head, scratch at the walls of his brain, trying to get out. The noises could be heard all day: the knocking, the scratching, the laughing, the whispering…

So he was done with it. He had lost everything that mattered to him. He even had to sell his last drum set to pay the rent. Well, not anymore. There'd be drum sets in heaven.

He wondered if he'd see Noodle there, too.

That's mostly what the demons would whisper about. Things about his little baby girl. Terrible things. It made his skin crawl just thinking about.

What was the point anymore, then? He lost Noodle. 2D and Murdoc were dead to him. Those shitbags left him and they left Noodle and they deserved to be punished. And the demons, why put up with them if Russel didn't have to? They couldn't follow him to heaven.

But then, a few days before this moment, he realized something that made him stop and think. Something was stopping him from jumping into the ocean and drowning at this very second. And it was the realization that he _wanted_ to punish his former band mates. Punish them for leaving him and Noodle behind. He had already heard the new album; he had left his flat for a rare moment of fresh air to go down to the library and listen to it on the computer. He could only get through three tracks before he got sick to his stomach and returned to the cursed flat.

They deserved punishment.

So he decided how he was going to die: he was going to die swimming to Plastic Beach. He would try with all his might to get there to punish those selfish bastards, and if he died on the way, at least he died trying.

Thus would be the way.

It was May 4th. And Russel Hobbs was heading to the door.

The Ocean…

Soon it would consume him.

An old radio was blaring in the background. Under usual circumstances Russel wouldn't hear it, over the screaming and whispering and knock knock knocking, but everything was surprisingly quiet as Russel walked to the door. And when he subconsciously listened to a piece of what a newswoman was saying, he froze, suddenly on high alert. She had said something about Plastic Beach. But this was a news station, not a music station, so what was this all about? Russel dared stop for a moment to listen.

"The reports came in at about 9 o'clock, approximately two hours ago," the woman was saying. "No one knows quite how it happened, but the fans of the band were the first to recognize it when the video surveillance cameras being streamed to the band's websites suddenly went offline, and our specialists have confirmed that huge waves of energy have been coming from the approximate coordinates of the now-famous Plastic Beach!"

"So what does this mean for the future of Gorillaz, Heidi?" an anchorman asked.

"No one is quite certain yet, Steve, but it's now official, folks: Plastic Beach has been blown up, and the whereabouts of the Gorillaz is unknown!"

"What a tragedy, Heidi. Now, here's the weather."

Russel, once again feeling like a zombie from one of 2D's old movies, trudged back over to the radio and switched it off. He had heard enough.

Plastic Beach… blown up.

A long stream of thoughts worked there way through Russel's head, but they all pointed to one inevitable fact:

They had been punished already.

So… Russel didn't need to jump into the sea after all.

He perceived this odd piece of new information in the following way:

2D and Murdoc were dead.

He felt a little sad, and he certainly didn't feel happy, but he felt somewhat… relieved.

Like a huge weight had been removed from his shoulders.

He didn't walk back to the door. The demons whispered, but he didn't hear them.

He could put up with all this shit for just a little longer.

Only because he now knew his baby girl's death had been somewhat avenged.

He was wrong on so many levels, but he was making the right decision as he sunk down into his armchair. The door stayed close.

* * *

**A/N: It's Russel! Hooray! Sorry for the short chapter, but it fits into everything else quite nicely, so it was necessary. I also apologize for the depressing tone, but things will get better for Russ soon(ish)! We won't be seeing him for a few more chapters, which means it's back to 2D and Murdoc!**

**If you don't recognize it, the italicized stuff at the top is an actual letter written by Russel, posted on the Gorillaz site.**

**Also, a quick note for those of you who aren't just joining us now: in the last chapter, for some reason, I claimed the current date (in the story, not in real life) was May 15****th****. This is incorrect, and I have changed it to the correct date, March 5****th****, the day after this chapter occurs. Sorry about that.**

**Reviews? Please?**

**Thanks for reading!**

**~blue-eyed-cow**


	6. Chapter Five: Traveling in Style

**A/N: Here's chapter five! This chapter is heavily inspired by my friend ****kukapetal****'s story, "Discarded". I highly recommend reading it.**

* * *

~Chapter Five: Traveling In Style~

* * *

2D's brain, which usually sucked at making connections from point A to point B, and therefore wasn't great at making analogies and comparisons of any kind, realized something. Remember in gym class back in primary school, where that hulking, smelly coach would yell at you to run, run, run faster around the gym? Even if you had no physical abilities what so ever, you were still forced to jog and jog. The sporty kids would zip right by you without even breaking a sweat, while the others were left panting in the dust. Thinking back on it, there wasn't a class Stu Pot hated more than gym. Every time he was forced to jog around the gym for reasons far beyond his current comprehension, he would end feeling like his legs were going to fall off and he was choking on air.

But compared to now, that seemed like nothing.

And they hadn't even been running.

Looking back to the day before, 2D wondered idly _Why couldn't we have taken the car?_

The cyborg had had her double Uzis to their backs for what was now two days, and if they made even a sound she would jab the cold metal between their shoulder blades and tell them to shut up. 2D once stopped to tie his shoe and she kicked him in the ribs. The only time they were allowed to stop was bathroom breaks, which were done with her watching like a hawk, the guns still pointed at them.

2D thought for sure that sneaking like this through freaking _Las Angeles_ was futile and that someone would see them and save them_,_ but apparently he was wrong. The trio somehow managed to take every back route, every foresty path, every deserted ally way and swamp and abandoned beach, through the city. It was as if Cyborg Noodle had a topographic map programmed into her head, which, 2D reminded himself, she probably did. And when they did have to pass through a populated area, she would hiss, "Act normal or you die," put the guns away, and stalk behind them, ready to kill them upon signs of unwanted movement.

So they didn't resist.

At first, Murdoc tried to. He swore at her and walked slower to bother her, but after a few threats to blow his head off he seemed to get the point and he kept quiet.

Throughout the whole first day 2D constantly was looking at Murdoc, still unable to believe what was happening, his empty eyes begging for answers and help. But Murdoc never returned the gaze, and kept his grumpy eyes fixed ahead, his hands balled into fists at his side, (except for his broken finger, which he tried to keep as idle as possible). For the first time in ages 2D was desperate to talk to Murdoc, desperate to hear him say it would be alright, and explain to 2D exactly what was going on.

But that wasn't going to happen, and they continued on.

By the first night they were nearly out of the city, but not quite. It must have been nearing midnight by then and they still hadn't stopped. 2D's head was throbbing, and dried blood from the submarine accident coated the back of his neck. He realized with a sudden jolt his cell phone and migraine pills were still in his pocket, but he also realized his captor would surely confiscate them if he took them out. So he kept quiet, even though he felt like his legs were on fire and he wanted nothing more but to curl up into a ball and sleep. Finally, she led them into an old, rundown building where no one seemed to be currently residing, and commanded them to sleep. As expected, she stood there the whole night, her guns forever armed. Once again, 2D desperately glanced at Murdoc. His throat itched and he wanted to yell. But Murdoc had laid down facing a wall and stayed quiet.

As much as he wanted to, that first night 2D barely got a wink of sleep. He was afraid if he closed his eyes Murdoc would leave and then 2D would get shot.

So, back up to date, when they were marched out of the city and into swampy woods, 2D made the gym class analogy and frowned. That pain was nothing compared to this. His head throbbed, he was seeing lights, his legs ached and he couldn't help but pant. He hadn't eaten in two days and his stomach was well beyond empty. It was taking every fiber of his being not to fall on the ground and sleep. He had already been walking for five hours that day and they were far from done.

It was around then that Murdoc dared get mouthy again. "So, Noodle," he started, glancing over his shoulder at the android. She glared at him in response, but he continued. "Mind, uh, mind telling your master where we're going, hmm?"

"Murdoc Niccals is not my master," she hissed at him angrily, jabbing him with the barrel of the gun. Murdoc flinched in response, not only because that had hurt, but also probably because he wasn't used to her sounding angry. He wasn't used to her sounding anything at all.

"Then who is, eh?" Murdoc dared to roar in response.

She suddenly brought her metal arm up and slapped the back of his head. A dull 'thunk' sounded and Murdoc stumbled forward, nearly falling but catching himself. He clutched his head in agony while Cyborg Noodle stood over him with her gun. "Up," she commanded, and he had no choice but to listen. When they started marching again, 2D heard her whir in a low voice, "You will meet him soon enough."

His stomach lurched and he kept moving, feeling like a zombie from his favorite movies.

But this wasn't a movie. This was real. This was real and this was scary.

After they stopped for another bathroom break when the sun had passed its middle point in the sky, the cyborg opened a compartment in her leg and threw a bag of potato chips and a bottled water at them; probably taken from Plastic Beach before she somehow managed to also get away. 2D and Murdoc gluttonously devoured the chips and split the water evenly. Murdoc still never looked at 2D.

When they continued marching, 2D's stomach suddenly did a back flip and next thing he knew he was on the ground on his hands and knees, retching up the little food that had hit his empty stomach. _No!_ he wanted to yell, _Don't leave; I'm so hungry!_ But now it was all out of his stomach and onto the cold ground in front of him.

"Up," the cyborg commanded, nudging him with her boot.

2D tried to do as he was told, he really did, but his body refused to budge.

"Up!" she repeated again, sounding angrier this time.

Once again, 2D tried, and he made is off his hands and onto his knees before collapsing back onto the ground. He felt terrified. _She's going to kill me,_ he thought feebly. _Get up, get up, I don't want to die!_

He suddenly felt something grab him by the hem of his shirt and wrench him to his feet. The cyborg then threw him into the trunk of a thick tree where he crumpled, whimpering. His cheek had been cut open on the sharp bark, and he was once again on the ground, much to his captor's frustration.

At this point 2D was sure he was dead, and he raised his hands over his face, preparing himself. But when nothing happened for a few more seconds, he looked up frightfully. Murdoc Faust Niccals was standing over his ex-band mate, a hand extended. 2D stared at it for a second, then remembered the guns aimed at them and took the green hand hastily. Murdoc yanked the lanky man to his feet, and when 2D stumbled, Murdoc caught him.

"Toughen up, Faceache," 2D heard him mumble into his ear before he was shoved away. This time 2D caught himself. His legs wobbled but he didn't fall.

"Enough," the cyborg hissed from behind them. "Walk, now."

Wiping vomit and blood from his face, 2D did as he was told. He took Murdoc's advice and toughened up as much as he could, praying it would be enough.

* * *

Murdoc _hated_ to admit things to himself. The thing he hated most was admitting _feelings_. They were disgusting things, things only felt by sissies. As mentioned before, all he wanted to feel was smugness, anger, and drunk.

But now… well, now he was feeling absolutely terrified.

He didn't know where the hell he was going, where the hell she was taking them, what the hell he was supposed to do, what the hell was wrong with 2D, who the hell that new master she mentioned was, and, to top if off, WHAT THE BLOODY HELL?

Murdoc also didn't like not knowing things, hence that rant.

His legs were killing him, his broken finger and the back of his head where he had been hit were both throbbing, he hadn't gotten a wink of sleep last night, and the potato chips his captor had been so _lovely_ of granting him weren't sitting well in his stomach. Neither was the lack of booze, and he would have jumped through flaming hoops for a cigarette at that point.

He hadn't even looked at 2D once since this new ordeal began, for multiple reasons.

1.) Whenever Murdoc was grumpy, he got the irresistible urge to punch that dullard's face in. Looking away would weaken the temptation.

2.) He didn't want to get in trouble with the iron bitch.

3.) He didn't want 2D to see how terrified he was, himself.

They were walking through a disgusting, wet, muddy forest that Murdoc didn't even think possible to exist in California, but here it was. They had just eaten and had now gone back to their usual routine of walking until they had to piss, when 2D suddenly faltered, falling to the ground and spewing up chunks. Murdoc looked away in order to keep his own lunch down. But when 2D didn't get back up, both the Cyborg and Murdoc grew uneasy. Even when the iron bitch commanded him to rise twice, 2D still didn't get back up. Murdoc watched as the Noodle imposter grabbed 2D and threw him into a large tree trunk, and Murdoc flinched as 2D's already-busted face collided with the wood. When he slid back down it and the cyborg pointed her gun at him, Murdoc knew he had to do _something._ He may have a black hole for a heart, but he wasn't about to let his only company get shot.

So he helped the stupid dullard up, all the while taking the risk of getting shot himself, gave him a universal word of advice, _toughen the fuck up, _and then shoved him away, returning to the death march. 2D, apparently taking the advice, fell back into step right along next to Murdoc.

The Satanist thought little of the act as he slouched through the mud and dirt. He tried hard to think little of everything, but the bad thoughts bombarded him.

And they continued to bombard him until the sun set and Murdoc couldn't see where he was going. All he was conscious of was the gun to his back.

At around ten, 2D fell again, only this time it was because he tripped over a root protruding out of the earth.

"Up," the cyborg commanded, but Murdoc stepped between her and 2D, glaring at the metal girl with hateful eyes.

"I think it's time to rest now, love," he said with fake sincerity in his voice. The robot seemed to fume, but she didn't object; she simply pointed off of the dirt trail.

"Sleep over there," she commanded in her monotone voice, and Murdoc did as she said, with 2D crawling after him. The two men collapsed onto the ground. This time, Murdoc was determined to get some well-deserved rest, despite the screaming of his broken finger and bruised head.

He nearly jumped when he heard 2D whisper, "I'm really hungry, Muds."

Murdoc lifted his head in annoyance. 2D was lying next to him on the ground, lying on his back and looking up at the stars with desperate eyes. The whisper was barely audible, but Murdoc was sure the cyborg could hear, so he hissed back, "I know, dullard, now keep quiet!"

"It hurts, Murdoc."

"I know, D, now hush up!"

"I'm really scared."

"I said shut it!"

This time Murdoc's voice rose above a whisper, and he heard the cyborg yell, "No talking!" The bit his lip in anger.

He glanced over at 2D again. He had his eyes shut tight. Something wet escaped from the left one.

Murdoc hated himself for doing so, but he found himself whispering one last thing to the blue-haired man. "We'll get out of this okay, D, just gotta hold up until then. Ok?"

"Ok, Murdoc," he whispered back, his voice cracking. And Murdoc watched as his shoulders relaxed and his breathing evened. It took Murdoc a few more minutes to be able to do the same.

The next morning, the routine continued. They were fed once again, this time one Super Fast Jellyfish each, and this time both of them kept the food in their stomach. And the routine went on. And on. And on.

At some point Murdoc shut off his brain, too deprived from its usual amount of drugs to function properly, and let his body do all the work.

Left.

Right.

Left.

Right.

He would be left-right-ing for a long time before he could stop.


End file.
